In the corridors where shadows whisper, reality intertwines with illusion. Here, where the stench of ancient whispers clings to every breath, one finds themselves suspended between past and future. The walls murmur tales of lost souls.
A single feather falls, brushing against the stagnant air, sending shivers through the forgotten aisles. The raven watches, unblinking, its eye a portal through which the abyss gazes back.
The stars flicker in disdain, casting a crimson hue upon the silent ground. A figure emerges, cloaked in midnight, carrying the weight of eternal dreams. Beneath their feet lies a path entwined with whispers of bygone elegies.
"What is, will be," echoes through the void, a solemn promise of light faltering.
Venture Deeper